


Requiem for That Which We Loved

by The_Bentley



Series: Kisses Bingo Fics [2]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Comforting Aziraphale (Good Omens), Drinking, Friendship/Love, Hopeful Ending, Implied Relationships, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Kissing, Lower Tadfield (Good Omens), M/M, Prophecy, Protective Crowley (Good Omens), Touching, Worried Crowley (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-02
Updated: 2020-08-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:28:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25667452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Bentley/pseuds/The_Bentley
Summary: “You could wish it back together . . .” said Aziraphale hopefully.“It wouldn’t be the same.”  Crowley turned to look at him, tears in his eyes.  “It was really more than a car.  It was like a whole body glove.  It was . . . home . . .”Aziraphale and Crowley discuss the loss of the Bentley and the bookshop as well as prophecies and hope after the world almost ends.  A fusion of the book and show scenes immediately after the events at the airbase.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Kisses Bingo Fics [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1861126
Comments: 4
Kudos: 41
Collections: Kisses Bingo





	Requiem for That Which We Loved

**Author's Note:**

> Kisses Bingo second call: Cheek kisses/wiping away tears

“I’m . . . I’m sorry about the car,” said Aziraphale, setting a hand on Crowley’s shoulder. “I know it meant a lot to you.”

Crowley sat behind the wheel of the Jeep they were in, the excitement of the world almost ending over. He sighed and flicked some ash off the label of his jacket, finally looking up with sadness in his serpentine eyes as he scanned the small crowd of confused humans and fleeing Them beyond the hood. He eyed Mr. Young’s old Morris with envy. It was a well-cared for car, just like his Bentley, even though the Bentley’s care was more about miracles and less about careful maintenance.

“You could wish it back together . . .” said Aziraphale hopefully.

“It wouldn’t be the same.” Crowley turned to look at him, tears in his eyes. “It was really more than a car. It was like a whole body glove. It was . . . home . . .”

“I’m sorry.” Aziraphale said again, looking around. Nobody was paying them any mind. The children had ran out the gate, Mr. Young was starting his car to follow after them, and the remaining four had separated into two pairs and were picking their way towards their own vehicles. Leaning in, he wiped a solitary tear from under Crowley’s eye with a soft smile. “We’ll find you another and maybe it will be just as good as the last one.”

“It won’t. I had the Bentley from new, you know.” Crowley grabbed Aziraphale’s wrist, giving the sensitive spot right below his palm a small caring caress. “I’m sorry about the bookshop, too. I know you put a lot of work into it over the years with your collection and all . . .”

“Yes . . . well . . . everything is fleeting, I guess. I’ll start over. It won’t be the same, but it’ll have to do.”

The angel conjured up a cardboard box and left the Jeep to gather the three symbols of the Horsepersons in it, the scales clanging against the untarnished crown. It had returned to its original metallic sheen after Pollution disappeared into it. Grabbing the sword he had ignited and brandished no more than half an hour ago, he regarded it thoughtfully.

“Maybe not everything is fleeting. I never thought I’d see this again. It’ll take work, but I can get most of my first editions back. Are you sure about your Bentley?”

“I’m sure.”

Crowley was taking a drink out of a sudden bottle containing a nice French Beaujolais. He offered it to Aziraphale who was approaching the Jeep with the box in hand. He carefully placed it on the back seat, slid into the passenger side then took the bottle. Taking a sip or two, he wiped off the top and handed it back.

“The delivery man should be here any minute now. I summoned him.”

Crowley nodded mournfully.

“You going to be all right?”

“Probably not. I’ve literally lost everything. It’s been nice knowing you. If I disappear during the night sometime, it’s because I got dragged down into the deepest pit in Hell for an eternity of the worst torture ever. You going to be ok?”

Aziraphale opened his mouth to respond, only to be distracted by the lorry approaching from the gate, “International Delivery” painted on its side. Fumbling around he got the box from the backseat as the delivery man approached them.

“Good evening, gents. I’m supposed to pick up a package?”

“Yes, I have it right here.” Aziraphale handed to him with a smile. 

The man examined the box, his eyebrows knitting together for a moment. “Umm, there should also be a sword.”

Crowley nodded towards the seat where he had watched Aziraphale absent mindedly set it down before sitting on it. The angel stood up, gave an embarrassed shrug and handed it to the man.

“Sorry.”

“No problem. I’m just happy you two were here to help things get sorted out.”

“Why thank you, I’m glad . . .”

A clipboard was thrust at Aziraphale. “Sign here.”

He took it, scratched down something illegible and handed it back quickly. 

“You know, I’ve had the weirdest day,” the man was saying. “I could have sworn I died earlier, but then I woke up in my lorry after dark with a note on the dashboard that said I needed to pick up a package here. I must have fallen asleep or something.”

“That’s quite a dream, indeed.” Aziraphale was eyeing Crowley hopefully as he handed the clipboard back. The demon perked up slightly. “Well, we probably shouldn’t keep you.”

“I’ll make sure these are kept in a safe location.”

“Please do. Thank you,” replied Aziraphale.

They watched him drive off then Aziraphale turned to Crowley. “Does this mean what I think it does?”

“It just might.” Crowley started the Jeep. “I doubt it will matter. We’re still in trouble with Heaven and Hell.”

“True, but I believe there’s a way to get through that.”

Aziraphale rummaged through his coat pocket, pulling out a small slip of charred paper he handed it over to Crowley. The demon offered him the wine bottle and took the paper in exchange. 

_When alle is fayed and all is done, ye must choofe your faces wisely, for soon enouff ye will be playing with fyre._

“That’s the last prophecy?”

“Um-hum.”

“You think it has to do with us?”

“Um-hum.”

Crowley grinned. “Let’s head back to London. My place. I need to see . . .”

He looked out through the fence of the airbase where he didn’t see the Bentley’s burned wreckage anymore even with his excellent demonic night vision. Could it be?

“But if the bookshop is . . .”

“No. You need to stick with me. I think we both know what the prophecy means and the bookshop, if it’s there . . . it would be dangerous for you to hang around it with Heaven angry at you. We’ll know for sure if the Bentley’s in its parking spot.”

“And you’re safe at your place?”

“They’ll stay away for a bit. They don’t know how much holy water I have or if I’ve booby-trapped any more of the flat.”

“If you believe it’s safe, then let’s go there.”

Crowley ran a finger around the Jeep's steering wheel, feeling a hope he hadn’t felt since before they were almost obliterated by Satan. He grinned like a maniac at Aziraphale who quirked an eyebrow at him. Crowley was very sure he knew exactly what this prophecy entailed and they were going to have to work together again, but Aziraphale, being an expert in prophecies, was probably already aware of that. At this point it seemed like fate.

“Home it is, angel. I have a feeling we’ll get through this. We always do.”

Aziraphale smiled trustingly at him, leaning over to place a quick smooch on Crowley’s high cheekbone. “For luck.”

“Yeah.” Crowley reverently brushed his cheek with his long fingers. “For luck.”

He put the Jeep in gear, turning the vehicle towards London.


End file.
